


What Friends Do

by pixieface



Category: Princess Princess
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 04:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieface/pseuds/pixieface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Threesome PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Do

**Author's Note:**

> According to U.S. law, all three of these characters are under the age of consent. However, as I understand Japanese law (read: a quick googling) they are not. I've decided to err on the side of caution here, seeing as all of the characters involved are 14-15.

It's hard to pinpoint when, exactly, it started. Maybe it had always been there, a seed sown the day they had all three come together, and was fed and watered by the sunshine of their experiences. Mikoto didn't think so, mainly because the metaphor was too flowery and girly to really apply to any of them. Even Yuujirou. Even if they did wear dresses.

Maybe it had been the day Mikoto decided to stop shirking his responsibilities. Or maybe it had been the week they tried to teach him to sing. Or maybe it had been that kiss.

Yes, Mikoto decided, it had been the kiss, not least because it took the blame from all three of them (except maybe Yuujirou - but then, that was typical). But mostly, it was because Mikoto saw that kiss, and he began to _wonder_. Wonder what it felt like, with Tooru's or Yuujirou's lips on his. He had kissed Megumi-san, of course, and her lips were soft and giving. Would their lips be like that, from the constant pampering of cosmetics? Or would they retain an essential rough maleness to them?

And that was only the start. Then, Mikoto began to wonder about their hands. What they would feel like - grasped in his own, on his shoulder, sliding slowly down his arm to pull him in closer, more intimately. What those blunt male fingers with their soft feminine palms would feel like, s-l-o-w-l-y rucking up his shirt to get at the flesh beneath, what those painted nails would look like undoing the buttons of his fly. Wrapping perfectly around his cock, male hands that knew just what he liked, because they liked it too.

One day, over break, he ensconced himself in his room - making sure to lock the door against his sister, who had little respect for his privacy - and tried it. Stared at his own perfectly manicured nails as they tease below the hemline of his shirt, felt what used to be callouses (before Yuujirou found them and insisted on the expensive lotion) catch on the newly-forming muscles of his abdomen, his chest. His body showed interest, but only a little so far.

Mikoto brought his fingers to his mouth, scowling in deep concentration. He bathed them with his tongue, added a little sucking on for show, and firmly reminded himself that these are not his fingers. He brought them down, wet and sticky, to his nipples, pinching one and then the other. He shivered, but not nearly as much as he did when he thought of Tooru and Yuujirou.

Tentatively, he allowed himself to imagine a pair of wicked golden eyes staring down at him, shaggy blue locks tickling at his chest. And immediately, his breath caught, he mouthed the air for a kiss. He pinched his fingers a little rougher, and his hips started to twitch. He left one hand idly tracing cooling damp patterns on his chest that he pretended were left by a tongue, and fumbled with the other for the button and zip on his jeans. Finally, he got them down, and watched his hand on his engorged prick, large and male and French-manicured, and his eyes slipped shut and he came.

After, Mikoto lay limp, and thought idly in post-orgasm languor, _Well, this means I'm queer, doesn't it_. Immediately on the heels of that thought came two warring twins - _Fuck, now I have to choose one_ and _What about Megumi-san?_ His afterglow faded away, and he cursed, quietly but vehemently.

The rest of the break, Mikoto withdrew himself. His family worried, he could tell, but he needed time and a little space to sort this out, and God knows he'd never get any at school - not with all of his Princess duties and the constant press of people that comes with a boarding school.

By the time the term begins, he hadn't come to any sort of a conclusion at all, and he felt vaguely guilty about it. It wasn't enough that he had to be gay, but he had to be gay for his two best friends. Together. At the same time. Multiple-locked door sessions had confirmed it. And on top of that, he was stringing his girlfriend along.

Both Tooru and Yuujirou noticed his mood, of course, but both of them were reluctant to comment on it, instead breaking off by themselves more, excepting Princess duties, of course. And Mikoto nodded and smiled to the masses while inwardly, he burned with guilt and shame that translated outwardly to anger and frustration.

So four days into term, still with nothing figured out and stewing because he hadn't had any time to himself that wasn't consumed with schoolwork, Mikoto took no notice of the quiet noises emanating from the Home Ec room until he opened the door and walked into a scene straight from his salacious fantasies.

Tooru and Yuujirou had obviously gotten distracted in the middle of their prep work; Yuujirou's uniform shirt and jacket were discarded on the floor, while Tooru was wearing only his specially designed underwear, tights, and crinolines. Yuujirou's arm was moving rhythmically, hand disappearing somewhere beneath the netted underskirts, and both of Tooru's hands had come up to clench at Yuujirou's shoulders for support. Mikoto assumed Yuujirou's other arm was helping to support Tooru, as when he walked in the blond had the other boy dipped over in a fervent kiss. Or he would have, if he had been capable of any higher brain activity. At all. The most he could mange was a squeak.

At the noise, the other two Princesses broke apart, both wide-eyed and panting, pupils blown with arousal despite the horror evident on their faces. Mikoto was aware that his own visage was rapidly turning a shade to outclass his hair. "Um," he finally squeaked out, "We should hurry - the game starts in less than half an hour!"

Hurriedly, he stepped into the room and closed the door, steadfastly not meeting either of the others' gazes as he got ready as quickly as possible. He could hear clothing rustling rapidly back into place behind him, and he knew he'd botched the makeup, but still, he didn't look at the other two until they were at the game, and that was only with his Princess mask firmly in place.

When it was over, Mikoto hurried back into the room, practically flying back into his uniform. Still, he took care with the dress and its accoutremonts, knowing the effort that Natasho put into it. He didn't even bother to wipe off the makeup, instead making his way through the halls with a girl's face. He passed Tooru and Yuujirou on the way out, both of whom gave him concerned looks but nonetheless went to change themselves.

Mikoto had just wiped the last of the cosmetics off of his face when someone knocked on his door. There was a definite feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach as he answered it, and sure enough, there were Tooru and Yuujirou, as fresh-scrubbed and awkward as he himself. Silently, Mikoto let them in, and silently, they all arranged themselves around his room. For a while, they stayed like that, but then all the silence began to weigh down upon Mikoto, and he blurted out entirely without meaning to, "What's it like?"

Both heads swiveled towards him as Yuujirou asks, perfectly innocently, "What's what like, Mikoto?"

Like they all didn't know. "Cut the crap, Yuujiro. Kissing a boy."

Yuujirou widened his eyes artfully. "Why, Mikoto. I'd almost say you were curious."

"Yeah, well," Mikoto mumbled.

"I'm glad you trust us with your sexual questions, Mikoto. Like good friends." Subtly, Yuujiro moved closer. "Would you like to find out?"

And almost before Mikoto can register the shock on Tooru's face, over on the bed next to the blond, said blond is moving towards Mikoto's perch on his desk chair and then suddenly they kiss.

It's both the same and different as Mikoto imagined. The lips were right, but the attitude was all wrong. Yuujirou kissed nothing like a girl; he kissed with power, assertion, attitude. When they broke apart Mikoto was gasping for air and Yuujirou was panting, a little.

"But then, every person kisses differently," he said a moment later when his words weren't punctuated liberally by air. "And it would be unfair for you to judge kissing a boy on just the one example. Tooru?"

And Tooru came, much more slowly but still came, now that he saw that Mikoto was not likely to bolt at any time soon. His kiss was much less demanding than Yuujirou's, but it had some of that self-possesiveness all the same. Just...quieter. Less brash.

This time, when the kiss was broken, they were both rather reluctant to leave, but Yuujiro, already sitting on Mikoto's bed again, gently tugged Tooru back to sit on his lap.

"As you can see," he said, "we have a rather flexible arrangement. If you'd like to join in some time, just ask. It is, after all, what friends are for."

Mikoto swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry for all that he'd had two other people's saliva in it recently, and opened and closed his mouth without words for a few moments. Yuujirou sat, waiting infuriatingly patiently, while Tooru stared at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Finally, his voice dry and rasping, he said, "I'm asking."

Yuujirou smirked over Tooru's shoulder, self-satisfied as any cat. "The more the merrier, isn't that right, Tooru?" and before Mikoto could insist that they just get on with it already, before he lost his nerve (though he would never voice the second half of that thought aloud) Yuujirou kissed him again, and this time the kiss was downright possessive. Mikoto could sympathize with Tooru for clinging so ardently, earlier.

Speaking of Tooru, that body behind him, those hands almost hesitantly undoing the fastenings of his uniform jacket, laying their warm solid expanse across his chest – those had to be his. Mikoto felt useless, cornered, like they were trying to reassure him.

Well, Mikoto wasn't a girl, no matter how much of his time on average was spent in female accoutremonts, and he didn't need to be coddled like this. He had made his decision and he was going to stick to it!

Mulishly, he broke the kiss, scowling again and decisively undoing Yuujirou's jacket, yanking the panels of it apart to discover the dress shirt beneath. He would have begun to fumble with the buttons, too, but then Tooru inexorably turned him, gently pulling off the jacket while Mikoto stared at him, unmoving. Tooru let the garment drop to the floor, and then cupped Mikoto's face with both hands, pulling him in for another lingering kiss. Mikoto was getting a little better at this, and now he thought he knew where to put his hands – resting on Tooru's shoulderblades, running index fingers over the bone, smoothing the fabric down his back. When they broke apart, some time later, Tooru opted for the quick route, only undoing the two fastenings beneath his neck before simply stripping the jacket off over his head.

Then they both turned back to Yuujirou, who was luxuriating on Mikoto's bed. He stared at them intently, bare-chested, tugging at his nipples and teasing himself with fingers underneath the waistband. An expression spread across his face, and Mikoto didn't quite know how to describe it; indolent and predatory and incredibly smug, all at once. When he saw they weren't moving quite yet, he spread his arms in an obvious invitation.

Mikoto and Tooru go to him immediately, each claiming a side to lounge on. Yuujirou's fingers went for Tooru's buttons as soon as they both were settled, and in turn Tooru's go for Mikoto's while the man of the hour himself keeps his right hand dancing across Yuujirou's bared flesh, his left caressing Tooru's as it became revealed. Soon enough, they are all sitting in the bottom halves of their uniforms, flushed and panting and undeniably aroused.

This was comfortable for Mikoto; for all his fantasizing, he wasn't quite sure he was ready to encounter another boy's cock face-to-face, so to speak. However, all these teasing caresses were rapidly becoming just that, teasing, and Mikoto was rather curious. He closed his eyes and blindly leaned forward, encountering a warm, wet mouth – Yuujirou's, by the feel of it – and reached out a hand until he discovered fabric, heated by its proximity to the skin. He slid his fingers upward the thigh until he ran into obstruction in the form of a hipbone, and then skated his fingers inward until he encountered the ridge of a cock. Curious, breathing through his nose so he could continue the kiss, he moved the heel of his palm down until the entire hard length was beneath it. It was a strange feeling that took a moment to get used to, but once he had suddenly he wanted more. Experimentally, Mikoto squeezed.

The hissed-in breath confirmed that the owner of this particular organ was not the one in possession of the mouth that Mikoto was currently trying to breathe through, but he knew that already, simply from positioning. He wanted to know more, so he tried a slow steady pressure combined with a downward swipe of his hand. The jumping pulse under his fingertips let him know he was doing something right, at least.

The hand in his lap came as a complete surprise, and, startled, he squeezed rather harder than he had meant to. The resulting gasp – Tooru's, probably, if he was going by earlier assumptions – was hopefully one of pleasure. The fingers at his groin kneaded deliciously, and Mikoto had to break the kiss, eyes still closed, to give a gasp of his own.

Intellectually, he knew if he let this go any further it was going to get messy, and jizz stains in his uniform pants were not something Mikoto wanted to explain. He doubted the other two had any secret yearning for it themselves, and so, not letting himself think about it, he undid the button on Tooru's fly and pulled down the zip, reaching down until he was touching firm, bare flesh, and brought it out into the open.

He could feel Yuujirou doing the same for him, and heard Tooru performing them on the blond. At the touch of skin on skin all three of them moaned, like a slightly off-tempo obscene choir. Mikoto jerked and squeezed and added in little details with his thumb, trying to ignore the strange angle until he could feel Tooru come, feel the little twitches his hips gave as he spurted, with himself and Yuujirou not far behind.

Surprisingly, the afterglow moments were not nearly as awkward as Mikoto dreaded. Instead, they slumped together companionably, still in the wordlessness that had served them well all through the encounter. When Mikoto finally stood and stretched, the post-orgasm endorphin rush was still firmly entrenched in his body, but he couldn't quite stand the spumk drying on his chest. In the bathroom, he cleaned himself off and passed the wet cloth to Tooru and Yuujirou when he emerged.

Yuujirou, when he had finished, grinned, and remarked, "Perhaps three is a crowd, but at least it's a pleasant one."


End file.
